Free Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 06 - Reverence by Bailey Bradford

could.
    “God, would you stop it?” he whimpered when another loud thud sounded from outside his door. Harley stood then yelped. A certain part of him was stuck to the inside of his boxers, or had been. Apparently he’d come sometime, probably in his sleep. The fact that he’d shot a load at all made him kind of dizzy. He hadn’t had an erection since before—well, just before.
    “Mighta just ripped off my dick,” he mumbled. Harley let go of his head long enough to unfasten his pants and take a peek down there. “Looks okay.” He dabbed at the spunk on his skin and in his pubes. Some of it was still not fully dried. “Like it matters.” He glared at his traitorous dick. That part of him hadn’t worked for weeks, and he didn’t give a shit if it never worked, or he hadn’t. But for it to work when he wasn’t aware of it just seemed cruel, no matter how much he’d decided he didn’t care. “Bastard.”
    Harley shoved his pants and boxers down, grunting when he had another couple of uncomfortable pulls, then he kicked his clothes aside. He was already shirtless, so he stood nude in the living room. Sunlight poured in the long windows of the wall facing west. Probably, it was late afternoon. Hard to tell, what with him being hungover and all. A hot shower would help, though, then he needed to decide where to go tonight. Staying in wasn’t an option. Harley hadn’t managed to spend a night here yet, nice as it was. And he’d not stepped into the bedroom at all. There was a nice guest bedroom now, something he hadn’t had before, but Harley just avoided that as well.
    The bathroom had somehow moved twice as far away as it had been yesterday, Harley was sure of it. It had nothing to do with his aching head and jaw and—well, he reached behind himself and touched his ass, then his hole. Nothing tender there, and he was relieved and mad about that at the same time.
    “And I am done thinking about it already,” he snarled then immediately regretted the emphasis he’d placed on the words. Harley whimpered and entered the bathroom. He avoided glancing at the mirror. No doubt he looked like death warmed over, and that would be an improvement from how he felt. He did grab the toothpaste and squirt some right into his mouth, because, ugh, that was just nasty in there. Gingerly brushing his teeth, Harley leaned over and started the shower. The room tilted and he gasped, choking on toothpaste as he flapped his arms, trying to keep from falling. He ended up slamming against the toilet, his ribs going bright hot with pain while he coughed and coughed, splattering paste everywhere.
    Then he sat there, somewhat on the floor, an arm over the toilet seat, and he wondered if he had a punctured lung or something, because damn he hurt. “Such a pussy.” Harley closed his eyes then jerked them back open. He pulled and shoved until he was on his feet, then he very carefully made his way into the shower. It dawned on him that he’d had his toothbrush in hand minutes ago, and now he didn’t. Oh well, he’d just buy a new one. His other must have fallen somewhere, behind the toilet most likely.
    The dual shower heads battered his worn-out body with hard, stinging spits of water. Harley turned his aching side to it, hissing and leaking a few tears when the pain shot out from his ribs. He deserved it, every bit of the pain. He’d gone out again, blown whoever he could in whatever club he’d been in. The only way he could get through that was with copious amounts of alcohol. It made him feel ill, dropping to his knees for some stranger, but being alone throughout the night was unbearable. Harley knew he wasn’t going to find a guy who would just chat with him for hours to pass the time. At least, not at the bars he went to.
    But old habits died hard, and even though he felt a strange sense of betrayal over sucking some random guy off, he didn’t know what else to do to alleviate his fear and loneliness. A part of him was